


ROLL BETTER!!

by Butternuggets



Series: Roll Better AU Universe [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dungeons & Dragons, Gen, Hickey is a nice guy pretending to be an asshole, Just a little fun crack, The crew are all jaegared by the DM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24906499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butternuggets/pseuds/Butternuggets
Summary: Technically a Tumblr 'commission' by angelfireeast ^^Heavily Inspired by irenydraw's comics: https://irenydraws.tumblr.com/tagged/d%26d-auAn AU where, instead of leading a doomed expeditiary force out of the Artic, Francis Crozier must now help company management navigate one of the worst-helmed Dungeons and Dragons campaigns in history.**SPOILERS** I will be weaving in dialogue from the show AND OBVIOUSLY MAJOR PLOT POINTS so be forewarned.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames, Thomas Jopson/Lt Edward Little
Series: Roll Better AU Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941343
Comments: 21
Kudos: 25





	1. Planning Day

‘Any plans for the weekend Francis?’

Crozier looked up, pen hovering over the mountain of paperwork littered across his desk. He groaned inwardly. Sir John was standing in the doorway, hands clasped in front, with a neutral expression of affected disinterest carefully fixed on his face. Crozier didn’t trust that look as far as he could throw it.

He scrambled desperately for an answer, his mind unhelpfully blank.

‘Nothing much’ Crozier admitted, grudgingly. He tried to remember what he and James had planned to do and cursed his sudden inability to lie. Antiquing? A trip to the local markets? His brain had been focussed on paperwork for so long that he wasn’t even sure what day it was.

Sir John brightened.

‘Excellent! Well, come round to my house on Saturday; I’m organising a little something for management to be involved in and I’d like everybody’s input.’

Crozier didn’t trust himself to speak so he simply bit his tongue and nodded brusquely.

The rest of upper management regularly went down to the local pub, or shopping, or camping together. Sir John’s pressing public engagements with his wife kept him from joining in on the shenanigans, so he tried to make up for it by organising the occasional team building event to ‘boost morale’. The only thing they usually boosted was the amount of sick days taken.

‘We’ll have dinner at six. I’ll see you then’

With a final smile, and a slight nod, Sir John turned and walked out, around the corner, just as Fitzjames came barrelling into the room.

‘He asked you then?’

‘You knew about this?’

Crozier glared at James, who shrugged. ‘I never said we were going, I simply told him that he should ask you.’

Crozier huffed and put down his pen. ‘So it’s my fault now, is it?’

‘No, but I couldn’t come up with an excuse myself so I thought I’d let you try’ James leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Francis’ forehead. ‘Here’s the expenses from Little’s trip to Hawaii. Have fun balancing the budgets darling.’

Francis flung a stress ball after him as he sashayed, chuckling, out the door.

* * *

It was all the Rat’s fault.

Alright, so calling the new boy a rat was probably a little harsh. Francis looked over at Hickey, who was engaged in an enthusiastic whispering match with Sir John. He had only been at the company for about four months, having come aboard with the last wave of new journalists. The office could be a bit clique-y at times, despite Sir John’s best efforts to get everyone to cohabitate in peace, and Francis had only ever seen Hickey hanging around his fellow interns.

By all accounts he was a polite, amiable fellow, who was looking forward to climbing the management hierarchy as soon as possible. It was just unfortunate that he had a particularly scrawny, lithe frame, and a reddish-brown goatee clinging to a pointed, angular face. His beady eyes didn’t help the rodent comparison in any way.

Francis shook himself and looked around the room. He and James had been roped into whatever madness lay in store, as well as Thomas Blanky, Edward Little, and Crozier’s PA, Thomas Jopson. He was grateful for the company; if Sir John’s idea was as poorly thought-out as they usually were, he didn’t want to be the lone voice of dissent.

Sir John had refused to explain anything over dinner, preferring instead to catch up with personal news from each of them. Now they were milling around the living room together, waiting for the complete mission report.

Sir John looked up and cleared his throat.

‘Gentlemen, it is my firm belief that we have not had a group bonding session in far too long. Now I know in the past that our excursions have taken an…interesting turn-‘

Blanky snorted derisively.

‘-but I overheard young mister Hickey here discussing something with his friends that I think would be a fun, interesting diversion from the norm.’

Sir John leaned back in his chair, looking pleased.

‘I propose we play a game of Dungeons and Dragons.’

Blanky grinned and clapped Crozier on the shoulder. Edward and Jopson looked confused but enthusiastic, and James shot a knowing smile at Francis, who was trying his best to contain the sudden warmth in his chest.

Francis had played Dungeons and Dragons decades ago when he was a teenager, before boys, and girls, and alcohol caught his attention. Back in the days when nerds and geeks congregated in dusty garages, and bought third-hand goods out the back of tiny bookshops which were only ever found out about through a friend.

Francis had a mint condition, 1982 _Wrath of Khan_ excursion jacket carefully hidden away in the back of the wardrobe. Only James and Blanky knew, and he would strangle anyone else who found out with his bare hands.

Sir John nodded at Hickey, who pulled out a sheaf of paper from his bag and laid them down on the coffee table. Everyone leant forward.

‘Looks complicated’ murmured Edward. Francis agreed; he was sure character sheets hadn’t been that large back in his day.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it’ Hickey smiled encouragingly, picking up a thick hardcover book and flopping it open.

‘Sir John is going to DM-‘

‘DM?’ asked Jopson.

‘Dungeon Master’ Blanky said. Everyone turned to look at him. He shrugged. ‘Played a little first edition back in the day.’

Francis very deliberately avoided his eye.

‘Well, welcome to fifth edition’ beamed Hickey. ‘I DM a game for about ten people; smaller groups are more ideal, but the boys were really enthusiastic about playing.’

‘Where's your campaign set?’ asked Blanky.

‘World War Two. Tozer loves military history.’

'I thought we might try something a little similar' Sir John interjected. 'Real world based but historical. Something a little...glacial.'

Hickey handed out some pens, pencils, and loose sheets of blank paper.

He grinned enthusiastically.

‘Shall we begin?’

* * *

Four and a half hours later and Francis was rubbing slow circles on his temples, staring despairingly down at the character sheets on the coffee table.

‘Let me get this straight. We have between us a Rogue who’s never set foot on a boat, a Bard with little to no Charisma, and four Rangers, only three of whom have selected Arctic conditions for their favoured terrain.’

There was a gentle burble of consensus and a mumbled ‘sorry’ from Edward.

‘All this when we know, specifically, that this is going to be a survival campaign based _in the Arctic_.’

He paused.

‘We’re fucked.’


	2. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the dice rolls that the characters make are being made in real life by me, except for those instances where someone clearly scored a Nat 1 or a Nat 20.
> 
> I can't be bothered making character sheets so the 'result' is literally whatever number the die lands on.

Despite his misgivings, Francis hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the game all week. He managed to stop himself running down to the local shops to pick up some dice. He was perfectly happy to borrow a spare set from Hickey.

He was.

James had raised an eyebrow when Francis had breezed through the front door with two slim, leather-bound notebooks tucked under one arm. ‘Every captain needs a decent logbook’ Francis mumbled, blushing furiously. James had grinned, pressed a kiss to Francis’ steaming forehead, and gone back to his crotchet.

Sunday rolled around and he found himself squished into a battered leather armchair in Sir John’s study, a long low-ceilinged room to the back of the house. They had pushed a glass table from outside, and a trestle table brought by Blanky, together, and set up some snacks on a coffee table to one side.

Sir John sat at the head of the table, flanked by Hickey to his left and Blanky to his right. Francis and James sat opposite each other in the middle; Thomas and Edward perched on the end. Hickey passed around his dice bag so everyone could choose a set. Crozier cracked open his notebook and smoothed down the pages.

Sir John started to speak.

‘It is September 1846, and you are on the journey of a lifetime. As members of His Majesty’s Discovery Service, you have been tasked with finding the fabled Northwest Passage. So far, it is theory. If you prove it to be fact, you will be hailed as heroes, and enable faster trade between Britain and Asia.’

‘If you fail, you may not survive.’

* * *

‘-the food is served, Jopson pours the drinks-no I won’t make you roll for it’ Sir John smiled as Thomas hastily picked up his d20. He put the die back down, relieved.

‘And dinner is underway. Now, would anyone like to do anything?’

‘I think I would wait until everyone had finished eating the main course but I would like to tell everyone my Chinese sniper story,’ said James. Francis frowned, confused, while Sir John nodded as if he had heard James tell it before.

‘What Chinese sniper story?’ asked Francis. James flashed him a winning grin and commented lightly, ‘In this universe, I was shot at while fighting in the First Opium War in…’ Fitzjames consulted his notes while Blanky let of a guffaw.

‘The Battle of Chinkiang. A sniper got me through the arm, then my chest, with a single musket ball. Size of a cherry.’

‘If I knew we were going to lie about military service I’d have made myself an admiral’ Blanky chuckled. Edward chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully for a second, then snapped his fingers and pointed at Fitzjames. ‘That’s the same shot that killed Nelson at Trafalgar!’

James nodded. ‘That’s where I got the idea from.’ Francis grinned and rolled his eyes. ‘Well when you’ve finished, I’ll chime in.’ He sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders and putting on a dour, sombre expression.

‘Why don’t you tell us about Birdshit Island, James. That’s a capital story.’

Now it was James’ turn to look confused.

‘Ichaboe Island’ Francis smiled. James snorted into his coffee.

‘That bloody wildlife special. I could have _strangled_ that seagull; took me ages to get the droppings out of my hair.’

* * *

‘The air is alive with the clatter of cutlery and quiet murmurs of conversation. You are seated at a table with Thomas Evans, David Young, Robert Golding and William Strong.’

Hickey nodded seriously, fixing the scene in his mind. ‘Can I see anything beyond the mess hall? Like, out the corridor?’

‘There’s no corridor,’ said Sir John, shaking his head. ‘There is a ladder leading down deeper into the ship, and back up to the deck above. You can see some officers loitering there, and Neptune, the ship’s dog.’

‘Aw Neptune!’ Hickey wiggled happily in his seat. Neptune, Francis’ beloved Newfoundland, was a favourite visitor amongst the staff. Whenever he graced the office with his presence he would spend several good hours weaving around cubicles and under desks to a chorus of whistles, clicks, and ‘good boy, c’mere Nep!’

Francis put his foot down and banned the handing out of treats when the vet told him that Neptune was two stone overweight. The dog gracelessly, and with much whining, went on a diet; it was a struggle but eventually he slimmed down.

‘You leave Neptune alone. Don’t you touch my dog!’ Crozier wagged a finger at Hickey, who threw up his hands.

‘I wasn’t going to do anything!’ Hickey protested.

‘We’ve got our eye on him Captain’ Edward said. He and Thomas glared at Hickey; Blanky made a throat-slitting motion and Crozier pointed two fingers at his eyes, then jabbed a finger towards Hickey.

‘What rank is that dog?’ asked Hickey, ignoring the threatening hand gestures as he settled into character.

‘Hmm..considering your character’s background, I would like you to roll an Intelligence check to see if you know your Naval ranks by now’ said Sir John.

Hickey obliged, then hissed and sighed at the result.

‘It’s a six, but do I get any bonus points for actually researching this before I came today?’ Hickey wheedled. Sir John smiled indulgently but shook his head.

‘I’m afraid not. You know the general gist of who oversees who, but you don’t know every rank’s duties intimately.’

Sir John consulted his notes.

‘Thomas Evans puts his spoon down and turns to you. “He’s on decks most nights, so I guess you could call that a watch duty.” ’

‘Then David Young joins in. “I don’t know, that would make him an A.B, or a marine.” ’

‘But he can walk the quarter deck, so that makes him a petty officer at least’ Hickey leaned forward towards. ‘Too much information?’

Sir John shook his head. ‘You’re describing rank location rather than duty; I’ll allow it.’

Hickey nodded, satisfied, and settled back. ‘Some nights he’s back there in officer’s country. Petty officers can’t sleep aft, so that would be considered a wardroom officer. What would that be? A marine? A lieutenant?’

‘Robert Golding looks across at you and jeers “Are we still talking about the dog?” The other boys laugh and shake their heads.’

‘That’s a consequence though isn’t it? Put a dog above a man, I mean who serves who in that arrangement?’

‘ “It’s a ship’s dog. We put up with it” says William Strong. There’s a brief, awkward pause in the conversation as the other boys mull over what you’ve just discussed, when David Young starts to cough.’

‘Cough?’ asked Hickey.

‘Here we go’ Blanky commented, crossing his arms.

‘It’s a throaty, chesty cough. It increases sharply and a good mouthful of blood comes spurting out of Young’s mouth, spilling onto his shirt and across the table.’

‘Oh God, oh shit!’ Hickey panicked, pawing at his dice. He fumbled his d20 which bounced out of his grasp and onto the floor; he crawled underneath to retrieve it as everyone made horrified noises.

‘He’s got a chest burster in him!’ Blanky and Francis shared a concerned look. Thomas leaned across the table and punched Blanky hard in the shoulder.

‘ _Why would you say that?!_ Don’t give him ideas!’ Thomas hooked a thumb towards Sir John, who was beaming amidst the chaos.

‘Medicine check! Medicine check!’ Hickey managed to roll. ‘Uh…uh..ten!’

‘You’re absolutely certain you have no idea what’s wrong with him.’

‘SOMEBODY GET A DOCTOR!’

‘Now, if you want to try and treat him before help arrives, you can either keep the roll you just had or I’ll let you try and get a better number.’

‘Uh..I’d like to roll again’

‘One more medicine check please.’ Hickey nodded and rolled the dice.

‘Three!’ Hickey let out a giggle and buried his face in his hands. ‘Oh God, I’ve killed him!’

‘You haven’t, but since the recovery position hasn’t been discovered yet, you are holding him down on the table, on his back.’

‘That’s not how you do First Aid!’ chided James.

* * *

The Arctic was colder than usual, Erebus had a crippled rudder, they had lost David Young to a mysterious illness that may or may not be tuberculosis, and now Sir John had forced the senior staff into an officer’s meeting and was rummaging in his bag for maps.

Crozier had a horrible sinking feeling.

‘Now,’ Sir John unfurled a wide sheet of paper across the table, weighing down each corner of it with various bits of junk. Francis leaned forward eagerly; he had always appreciated the effort that went into making maps, and admired antiques greatly. This one was a reprint of a vintage map of the Arctic; he recognised a few of the places dotted here and there and lost himself for a minute in cross-referencing current and past labels.

‘This is King William Land,’ said Sir John, jabbing a finger at the land mass. ‘You all have an important decision to make.’

‘The plan is to sail to the west, around King William Land for as long as possible, keeping an eye out for the passage. The ice flowing downstream- or down ocean- from there is substantially thicker than normal and in greater quantity. Thus, another issue arises: The Pack.’

‘The Pack?’ asked Edward, warily.

‘The ice forms into one solid landmass during winter, then breaks up and partially melts during spring and summer’ explained Thomas. Francis nodded; he was glad to know his waxing poet about climate change and Artic weather within earshot of the lad had imparted some knowledge.

‘Yes. If the leads-shipping lanes, essentially- in the water close whilst the ships are sailing west, you will be stuck in the ice until the spring thaws them out and you can sail again.’

‘Oh Jesus!’ said Edward. Thomas pulled a face and leant forward so he could pat him on the shoulder.

‘I haven’t gotten to the good bit’ said Sir John.

Edward scowled at him. ‘Oh, there’s a good bit, is there?’

‘Yes. If the ships become part of The Pack, they will drift with it, unable to change course.’

‘Perfect, that’s all we need.’

Francis looked pensively at the map. ‘Cornwallis Land turned out to be an island..that was known around this time, correct?’

‘I believe so, yes’ said Sir John.

‘Well, then I propose we explore the east side of King William Land instead of going west. We’ll avoid the pack and if it turns out to be an island there might be a safe harbour where we can shelter through winter, then continue to look for the Northwest Passage come spring.’

‘But that will add miles to your journey, and there’s no telling if your assumption is correct’ Sir John pointed out. He sat back in his chair. ‘Convince me. You and James are leading this expedition; everybody pick a direction they want the ships to sail in, discuss it further before deciding, if you want to, but you and James get the deciding roll.’

‘I’m only a steward, so I’m out’ said Thomas.

‘I’m not sure either way, so I’ll leave it up to you two’ Edward slumped back.

‘I’m with Francis, I think we should go for broke due east’ said Blanky. ‘We could even stockpile everything on Terror and leave Erebus behind, take the undamaged ship.’

‘That’s a good idea’ said James. He turned to Sir John. ‘What do I have to roll to see if I would agree with that suggestion?’

‘A Wisdom saving throw.’

‘Well, here goes! Oh no, it’s a four.’

‘Sadly, both you and I are too loyal to our ship to abandon her in her hour of need’ Sir John held up his dice. ‘Ten. I was almost convinced but then my irrationality took hold.’

‘Damn. Well I had better make a roll then’ Francis picked up his dice, shook it, and let fly. His hand thumped the table. ‘A NAT ONE?! Jesus Christ.’

‘Come on, all you’ve got to do is beat a nat one and then you can lead us all to an icy grave’ said Edward. James sighed and picked up his dice.

‘Oops, fell off the table. Er..sixteen.’

Sir John nodded. ‘Well, it looks like we’re heading east after all’

* * *

‘You couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned all night until thin slivers of sunlight creep into your cabin. You’re awake and staring blankly up at the beams above you.’

‘I’ll get dressed and go up on deck’ Francis mimed putting on a long jacket and a hat.

‘You stroll out along the helm. There is a sharp breeze bouncing snowflakes and sleet along, and the sails and rigging above you snap and creak in protest. It is bitterly cold. You lean over the side to inspect the icy water below and…nothing.’

‘What do you mean, nothing?’ asked Francis.

‘There is no water. There’s only ice.’

‘Oh no.’

‘The route you painstakingly chipped and dynamited your way through yesterday has been completely swallowed by a fresh dumping of snow.’

‘Shit.’

‘You’re completely frozen in.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The recovery position was 'discovered' by Dr Robert Bowles around 1891.
> 
> Cornwallis Island was first discovered by Sir William Edward Parry in 1819, and named after Naval admiral Sir William Cornwallis. I don't know the exact date that it officially went from being called 'Land' to 'Island'.
> 
> I'm so proud of my dice! They're matching the level of ineptitude in the show perfectly! Crozier's nat one at the end had me laughing for five minutes; I'd rolled for it because Crozier made real effort to convince Sir John not to stick to the plan and I didn't want to just put it down as a nat one. Apparently my dice had other ideas!


	3. Planning Day 2.0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Great, I finished another chapter! Now I can focus on my uni studies ^^
> 
> My Brain: MWAHAHAHA!!

Francis looked up to see Silna barrelling towards him. She skidded to a stop and handed him her phone.

‘Sir John’s broken both legs’

‘What?!’

Francis baulked incredulously, then pressed the mobile to his ear.

‘Hello? What happened?’

‘It’s Harry here. Sir John just got wheeled into emergency; a taxi clipped him while he was crossing the street. The poor driver’s in a bit of a state but John’s alright now he’s been pumped full of pain killers.’

‘Is he going to be alright?’

‘Yes. The doctor treating him- McDonald, lovely chap- says he’ll be out of here shortly, but he’ll be in plaster for at least two to three weeks. Plenty of bed rest ahead of him, I’m afraid.’

Francis swore and nodded gratefully at Silna. ‘Thanks. Please keep me posted’

‘Will do. Goodbye.’

Francis handed Silna back her phone. ‘Well, damn. Good thing Harry was there.’

Harry, Silna’s husband, worked at the general hospital on the other side of town. He was warm and kind and had enthusiastically talked Francis’ ear off when he discovered their mutual passion for oceanography.

‘If I hadn’t been a surgeon, I think I would have liked to have been a marine biologist’ Harry had admitted, over drinks. Whenever Francis got the odd urge to go to the seaside and do some catch-and-release fishing, he usually rang Harry up and the two of them left their bemused partners on the foreshore while they waded into the surf.

‘What’s this about, Francis?’ asked James, once everyone had responded to the group email ordering management to go to the conference room for an emergency meeting.

‘Sir John’s in hospital. He got run over.’

‘What?!’ James spluttered, his face going pale. Blanky let out a low, long whistle and Francis patted James soothingly on the shoulder.

‘He’s fine, he’s fine. Harry’s with him. He’s broken both legs-’

‘That is _not fine_ Francis!’

‘- _but_ Harry says he’ll be up and about again in a few weeks.’

‘Bloody hell’ Blanky clasped his hands in his lap, eyebrows raised. ‘Hope he’s on the good stuff or he’ll be screaming the place down.’

‘Dr McDonald knows what he’s doing’ said Silna. She looked down at her mobile as it buzzed. ‘Harry says they’ve finished running tests. Sir John’s all plastered up and they’re moving him into a ward now. Bed 20, Ward C.’

‘We’d better pop up there this afternoon’ said James.

* * *

Sir John was on a morphine drip when they finally managed to locate him, but he was cognisant and happily waved them into the room.

‘Come in, come in! Make yourselves at home’ he finished the tuna sandwich he’d been eating and pushed his lunch tray aside. ‘I’m feeling much better since they put me on sedatives, but I suspect I shall be in significant discomfit once I go home.’

He beamed up at them. ‘You mustn’t let that trouble you. I really am quite well, despite the obvious.’ He chuckled and gestured towards his legs.

‘Does your wife know you’re here?’ asked James.

‘Oh yes, and Sophia, too. They’re on their way here right now, as a matter of fact.’

‘Good’ Francis heaved a giant bouquet of flowers onto the bedside cabinet and fished a bottle of scotch from where he’d hidden it in the fold of his jacket. ‘Jopson and the office sends their regards, and the single malt’s from Blanky. They said to tell you they’re thinking of you, and to get well soon.’

‘Wonderful! Please give them all my sincerest thanks’

They talked over deadlines, reshuffled work schedules and sorted out who would be in charge of which project until a nurse popped her head round the corner and informed them that Lady Jane had arrived.

‘Rest well, Sir John’ James clasped his hand briefly before following Francis out of the room.

Lady Jane gave them a curt nod as she breezed past, but Sophia stopped beside them.

‘Thank you for coming to see him. It’s been a terrible shock, especially for Auntie Jane.’

‘If there’s anything we can do to help, please ask’ said Francis. Sophia smiled gratefully.

‘I will. I’d better go see how he is.’

After giving both of them a tight hug, Sophia quickly scurried off.

Francis let out a breath and James squeezed his hand.

‘She’ll be alright. She’s tough.’

‘I know but still. It’s a nasty thing to go through, for everyone.’ Francis sighed again and James smiled, wrapping his arms around him and kissing the back of his head.

Sophia Cracroft had once been the centre of the universe to Francis. He’d fallen head over heels for her wit, her uncanny knack at seeing through his gruff, bitter exterior, and the easy grace with which she carried herself.

They had danced around each other for years, never quite dating, never quite friends. He had been on the verge of proposing, he’d even bought a ring, when they’d been invited to a corporate luncheon and she’d skilfully steered him into the path of one James Fitzjames.

He took the ring back to the shop the very next day. They’d remained close ever since.

* * *

Lady Jane rang that evening to update them on Sir John’s condition.

‘They’re going to keep him overnight for observation, but the doctor thinks he will be well enough by tomorrow morning to be discharged.’

‘That’s excellent news’ said James.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. John told me to tell you that the Sunday game will continue, with Silna at the helm. Apparently she has some experience DM’ing a game for her nieces and nephews.’

* * *

It was Tuesday afternoon and word had got around that Silna was the new captain of H.M.S UnWinnable. Silna had told Harry, who had informed Hickey, who had been enthusiastically speculating with Edward and Thomas on the direction the game might take now when somebody overheard them and blabbed to the rest of the staff.

Which was why Harry found himself being herded into HR when he came by to drop off Silna’s lunch.

‘Um, the boys wanted me to ask you something’ said Harry, pointedly ignoring the shushing noises behind him. ‘Well, a…a suggestion, really.’

‘They were wondering if you might be able to persuade everyone to film the campaign. So they can watch. I think some of them want to learn how to play, and-’

‘And the others want a good gawp’

‘..Yes’

Silna craned her neck to look past Harry into the hallway. Almost the entire company was standing outside, hands clasped before them in supplication, eyes wide and pleading. The Hartnell brothers, John Irving, and several others were grovelling on their knees.

Silna let out a resigned, beleaguered sigh.

‘…fine.’

The resulting cheer was so loud it caused a ripple in Francis’s cup of coffee sitting on his desk one floor above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silna: I've been asked to film each episode of the game for the office to watch. Would you be alright with that?
> 
> Hickey, Edward and Thomas: *collective shrug* Sure, go ahead
> 
> Blanky: *chuckles* Doesn't bother me either way but you'll have to persuade Francis somehow.
> 
> James: I don't mind but you'll have to convince Francis.
> 
> Francis: *beetroot red* Absolutely not!  
> *3 hours of intense discussion, wheedling, emotional blackmail, and Star Trek references*  
> Francis: ...alright, okay. But if a single second of footage gets leaked online I will personally fire whoever let it slip!

**Author's Note:**

> Hickey in this is basically Adam Nagaitis with a different name, playing a Chaotic Evil character.
> 
> Hickey's campaign being set during WWII was a deliberate nod to The Terror: Infamy, technically The Terror Season Two.


End file.
